


Nightmare

by Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer



Series: Comfortember 2020 [3]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfortember 2020, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Greg House and James Wilson Being in Love, Greg House is Bad With Emotions, I filled in some blanks that's it, I sprinkled in something from an au my girlfriend and I made no biggie, Implied/Referenced Character Death, James Wilson Has Nightmares, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Past Character Death, Pining, Poor James Wilson (House M.D.), Pre-Relationship, Protective Greg House, Timeline What Timeline, Wilson has an interesting past okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer
Summary: Wilson has nightmares. Well - nightmare.It happens once a year; the same dream for an entire month straight.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Series: Comfortember 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995943
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of comfortember - 'Nightmare'
> 
> (The nightmare is related to a biiiit of Wilson's past I plan to explore in later works ^^ I'm sure it's not hard to figure out the context...)

Wilson has nightmares. Well - night _mare._

It happens once a year; the same dream for an entire month straight. All of his ex-wives have witnessed it. He chooses dates carefully, knowing when the month nears that he needs to lock down his defenses and shield himself away when he sleeps. He's _particular_ about it, he's careful, because he can handle other nightmares just fine - but this one, during this _particular_ time, every single year, it gets to him like nothing else is ever able to. So when he knows the nightmare is coming, he knows to make sure nobody can catch him while he's sleeping, nobody is around to hear him when he startles awake in the middle of the night, screaming and crying. This is made significantly harder when he moves into House's apartment; he hadn't intended to stay this long, but his stress and anxiety builds more and more as the month draws closer. He tries to find excuses to leave, deepens his search for places to move into, but he can't find one.

The first night, he manages to stay awake throughout the night. This results in a bombardment of questions from House, and Wilson getting off work early so he can sleep in his car. All things considered, it goes by without a hitch - but the second night, he falls asleep without meaning to.

The dream always starts out the same, dark and grey and cloudy at first. He's always coughing, always unable to get enough air, always struggling to breathe. He's always holding onto something, something that feels cold and wet and sticky, but he never sees it. The dream is a blur up until the part where it really starts freaking him out; he's on his knees as if he's praying, surrounded by broken glass. It's still cloudy and grey, but he doesn't have to cough anymore. Even though his chest tingles and his throat hurts, he doesn't cough. He just gasps for air.

Ahead of him is a girl. A little brown-haired girl with green eyes, eyes that shine through the fog like emeralds. Wilson reaches for her with tears in his eyes and a pain in his chest he can't even begin to describe, like someone's taking his heart and squeezing for all it's worth. It's physical, _and_ emotional, and he knows that because he wants to break down sobbing right then and there, but he doesn't have the lung capacity and he can't suck in enough air to utter a sound. So he's silent, straining as he reaches for the girl in front of him. She looks up at him silently, no more than four years old, and offers a warm smile that's a reflection of his own. A gust of wind blows her hair back, clearing some of the smoke so he can catch a better glimpse of her, her and the blood on her chest, the pole stuck through it, just below her heart, a few inches deep.

A voice cuts through the horrible silence, soft and steady and sweet. It finally draws a sob from Wilson's lips as he manages to pull himself forward, close some of the distance between them.

" _You are my sunshine… my only sunshine…"_

"No…" Wilson groans, low and unsteady and _strained_. He pulls himself forward again, but the girl doesn't seem to get any closer, despite Wilson's hands reaching out, silently begging and pleading with her to come to him, to come close enough for him to wrap his arms around her. There's so many things he wants to say, but mostly he just wants to say that he's sorry, he wants to apologize a thousand times over, he wants to beg her not to leave him, _not again, no…_

" _You make me happy… when skies are grey…"_

"Daddy," she calls, and he freezes. Everything freezes. His heart leaps up to his throat and threatens to stay there forever, and he's almost certain the sob that rips its way from him carries about enough force to shove it right out of his mouth. He's hysterical, panicked and confused and desperate, but also guilty and _scared_ and he just knows he needs her, he needs to get to her because if he doesn't something bad will happen, and he can't let that happen, he can't let anything bad happen to her because he needs her and he can't lose her _he can't lose her again._

" _You'll never know dear, how much I love you…"_

"It hurts," the girl continues, finally stepping forward. Her legs crumble beneath her, and Wilson's scream is lost to the sound of a horrible _crunch_ instead as she melts to the floor, _through_ the floor, and suddenly she's gone, and he's still screaming, except he can't hear himself scream.

"No- _NO-"_

All he hears is the steady _beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep,_ a flatline, a sound that makes his stomach churn. And then he's jerking awake in a cold sweat, still screaming, still sobbing.

"NO- _GOD, NO-"_

He can't stop. He hears shuffling from the other room, alarmed footsteps and the sound of House's door swinging open, but he still can't stop. He covers his mouth to muffle another sob instead, and folds himself into the couch as if it's enough to make himself disappear. He doesn't even attempt to sit up, simply curling up further where he is and shying away as the light flips open and House's shadow falls across the room, his cane raised high as if he intends to use it as a weapon against someone. It droops immediately the second he sees Wilson's trembling form curled into the couch, and Wilson really wants to tear his hands away from his mouth and tell him that he's okay, but the only thing he can do is choke out another sob. Because he's not. Because he hates this stupid nightmare, he hates this stupid month, he hates these stupid memories that come with it and he hates himself for not being able to handle this better.

Concern is a rare emotion to see on House's face, but it's the one that's currently written there as he limps forward toward the couch, hovering almost uncertainly before he speaks. Wilson thinks he hears his own name uttered from the other man's lips, but he can't bring himself to reply just yet. Instead, he chokes back another sob and bites his tongue to keep himself from making any other kind of sound. House just peers down at him, brows furrowed close enough to touch. He takes another half step forward, cane clicking as he moves, then freezes once more.

It takes a while for Wilson to calm down enough to uncover his mouth, letting his hand drop so he can push himself into a sitting position, and he stares up into the blue eyes of his best friend. There's nothing but concern and confusion there, in his gaze. "Sorry," Wilson breathes, shaky.

"Yes, how dare you have a nightmare in my home," House snaps back, and his harsh tone and words don't quite match the expression on his face, but Wilson flinches anyway. It doesn't take long for his friend to soften, but he seems to do so begrudgingly. He stays where he is for a while, seeming frustrated as he twists his cane against the floor. Then, with a sigh that indicates defeat, he limps forward and drops himself down onto the couch beside Wilson, causing the man to flinch once again in surprise at the movement, the sudden closeness, and the gesture itself. They both know what it means, and Wilson isn't entirely sure how to feel about it either.

House watches him as he pulls himself together again, until the tension finally drains from the poor oncologist's body. He slumps back into the couch and lets his head fall back, looking up at the ceiling, and House continues to study him - silent, assessing, thinking - before he speaks. "So are you going to tell me what that was about?" He prompts, and Wilson flicks his gaze over to him briefly before he looks away, unable to bear the intensity in his inquiring eyes. "Or is this just one of those things that happen that we never speak of again for the rest of our lives?"

"Just a nightmare, House," Wilson whispers.

"You don't have nightmares."

Wilson shakes his head, not knowing what else to say or how to respond to that, because he knows he doesn't have nightmares, he knows he doesn't have nightmares like _that._ Only this month, this month that tears him apart bit by bit until he can't recognize himself anymore by the time it's over with. He doesn't say that, though. He wraps his arms around himself and digs his fingers into his ribs and squeezes himself until it hurts, but he doesn't open his mouth again.

The silence stretches on until House breaks it again, this time with a quiet murmur of, "are you okay?" that briefly takes Wilson by surprise. But that doesn't last too long, replaced by an odd sense of warmth, and then guilt. It's nice to have the reminder that House cares every now and again, but he knows it's late and House should be in bed sleeping right now, not awake with him, dealing with his crap. He knows he has to make it up to him somehow, even in some unspoken way, but he's not sure what to do short of sending House back to bed - but he knows House well enough to know that's not going to work tonight, and if it does, he'll just have to deal with the onslaught of questions the next morning. He doesn't know how he's going to bear that, but… one thing at a time. He doesn't answer for a moment, running his tongue over his lips.

House would know it's a lie if he says he's okay. He's not really sure why the older man bothered to ask - maybe just for confirmation, he's not sure. But he makes his decision quickly, offering a half-hearted, one-shouldered shrug in House's direction at first before mumbling, as honestly as he can manage, "all things considered." All things considered, he is okay. He will be, anyway. In time. When all of this is over. When the month ends. When the nightmare ends.

"Right." House sighs, and settles back into the couch. As if he intends to stay there. He interrupts Wilson's quiet protest with, "and you're not going to tell me about the…"

Wilson shakes his head again, before House even finishes.

"Fine," House murmurs. There's no bitterness or resentment in his tone, no frustration. He's oddly gentle right then, and Wilson feels the rest of the tension drain from his shoulders in response to that, in response to House's presence beside him, the fact that he's there at all. He looks over at the other man for a moment, wanting to express his gratitude for his company, but House isn't looking at him. He's looking ahead at the TV as he reaches forward for the remote, using his cane to slide it closer across the coffee table so he can grab it and turn the TV on. "Well, since you woke me up, I'm staying up. And I'm staying in here. And watching TV."

_I'm worried about you, and I know you're not going back to sleep, so I'll stay up with you._

Despite himself, despite everything, Wilson smiles. It's a tired, weak smile, but it's genuine. Because, yeah, all things considered? He is okay. House is there to make sure of that.

"Okay, House."

_Thank you._


End file.
